Sex kitten in crisis

Ive rocked the sex kitten thing for as long as I can remember. I collect vintage style lingerie, I used to frequent all the swingers and alternate lifestyle clubs. While I may not actually sleep with you I’d sure make you think I would.
I was that girl. I owned that label and revelled in the attention it got me.
And then it got old. It became a bandaid and just another person I pretended to be. It was exhausting and I would go home and just generally hate myself more often than not. To cover that feeling I self medicated with alcohol, and later with drugs. When it finally got to be too much, being me and only really functioning in extremes, I went the opposite way and withdrew from the whole alternative lifestyle scene. I cut off people who only knew me as that person. I became a recluse.
I moved to a new town.
It changed nothing other than to highlight how very alone I really am.

Im back in that same city where I was that girl. Just being here has affected me in ways I don’t understand and don’t know how to combat. Ive very recently resolved to quit drinking completely so we’ll see how that goes given that I crave the escape from my reality it offers.

I got offered a FWB position by a female friend who has the ‘perfect guy for me.’ Part of me at least wants to meet him and part of me is crushed that I need to accept that FWB is about all Im likely to end up with, all Im worth, that I’ll be somehow lucky if I can even manage that.
Most of my self esteem crisis is self inflicted. Im a master of self sabotage. Combine that with a stunted set of social skills and Im pretty much a walking recipe on what not to date.
But I still want someone to want to date me. I don’t know why. Just to have someone think I was worth it for once in my damn life.
I think from the time I was abused as a child I learned that sex sells. People want the sex kitten. Not just guys, everyone. It’s only in the last few years that Ive started to balk at that label and the crushing vice it puts on my self esteem. It’s hard to wake up every day and know your only value is sex and that you apparently have nothing else of note to offer anyone in the universe.
The universe is a damn big place and that’s still all Ive got. How sad is that? If I stew on that fact too long I will spiral into that nasty place I struggle to escape from so I try not to dwell on it too much.
I struggled with the whole mistress thing with the Unicorn for the same reason. He had the chance to date me, to stake a claim, and didn’t want it, but he’d love to be able to fuck me whenever the mood suits him. He wants his own personal whore at his beck and call and he somehow thinks I’ll be okay with that. What does that even say about me and what I put out into the world? The worst part is I actually considered it the first time he tried years ago. I almost sacrificed who I want to be and who I am at my core for a shot at some guy who clearly thinks Im just a hole in a mattress. How did I get to be valued so little? What did I do to put myself in this position?
I think the worst part of the whole situation is that if I give that up I literally have nothing. Im struggling to be okay with that. Putting myself back together after that night of meaningless sex is just too hard now. I’d rather just stay home now and torture my cat with the laser pointer.

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